The Mission Report
by emalieth
Summary: Iruka had come to the conclusion a long time ago that jounins were only overgrown kids —albeit very talented overgrown kids — but after a silver-haired jounin comes back from a mission covered in blood, he decides he may be willing to forgive it all.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a short piece I wrote a while ago. It's meant to be a two or three parts thing, but who knows, if you guys are interested, maybe I'll expand it into something more substantial once I finish writing "A New Life"._

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"Anko! How can you even think this can be called anything like a mission report! Even my pre-genin can't do anything so outrageously subpar!"

"But Ruru, school was a long time ago..."

I really couldn't understand jounins. They were even worse than kids. I rose to my feet and came so close to her that our noses were almost touching.

"If you need a refresher, my students will be more than happy to teach it to you!" I replied with a smirk.

"Ruka kun, pleeeeease!" Anko pleaded with her most innocent smile. "Only this once..."

"Oh, so it's laziness then? Do I need to grade your mission reports for you to put some efforts into them? I can give you stickers if it helps... Rewrite it!" I said slapping Anko's so-called mission report on the desk. "Now go and don't come back until you have a real mission report to submit."

I knew that if she would only take the time to sit down more than thirty seconds to write it, she could easily submit flawless work... But she never did, and because of that her mission reports could have been the worse in all of Konoha... if it hadn't been from those of another infamous jounin that was even more lazy and childish than her...

To say Kakashi's reports were bad was an understatement.

The intentional messiness of it all, the horrible chicken scratches that he dared pass as writing, the creative stick figure drawings he included with the very objective of taking away a few years out of my life each time he handed in a report... it just made me feel like cutting his leg and kick the lazy bastard in the butt with it.

Anko could probably reach that level if she ever tried to. That was why I had to extinguish that interest immediately.

She pouted and went away. The room became infinitely quiet for a while, then the usual chatter started again. I let out a sigh and sat back on my chair.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Woah, Iruka! Rough day today? What did those hellions you teach at the Academy do to you?"

It was Genma. Despite his apparent arrogance, I knew the man had a good heart.

"I am sorry," I said knowing I had gone overboard with Anko.

"Keep your apologies for later," he said with a smirk. "I can feel your best buddy nearby..."

I felt around for chakra signatures... Kakashi. I had hit the jackpot this evening.

The jounin slowly walked inside. He wasn't limping, but his feet barely left the ground. He was covered in blood, the dark red liquid dripping around and over the pouches of his flak vest. By the livid expression in his eye and the absence of expressiveness and energy in his gestures, one could tell it was the blood of a comrade.

The whole mission room fell silent. Something had gone horribly wrong.

He carelessly snatched a brush, some ink and a blank scroll and dragged the writing material with him to the closest available seat. He pulled a chair and let himself drop on it without even acknowledging the gazes that scrutinised him. He looked as if nothing could be important enough to make him snap out of it. He took a deep breath and paused, probably thinking about what he was going to write, then pushed on the scroll to open it and pinched the brush between his thumb and index to smoothen the tip, before dipping it in the black ink and starting to write.

Looking carefully at his upper torso, I could see the imprint of a bloodied body on him. His left shoulder was covered in blood falling diagonally against his chest. The crimson fluid had also found a way to his right hand with the distinct pattern of drops falling down his forearm. In his always shiny silver hair, there was now an uncharacteristic red-brown strand...

People watched in fear, not because the mighty sharingan copy-nin was in a horrifying state, but because they all knew he was a jounin sensei; the shinobi equivalent of a father... or even a mother... a very overprotective mother!

But what made it even more terrifying is that all knew that Kakashi had been a stone hearted ANBU, trained to see his teammates injured in front of him and remain focused on the mission. Seeing him in this state spelt death or multiple deaths... or even worse!

Everyone stared at him, but no one reached out to talk or comfort him. I usually hated the jounin, but this evening in the mission room he looked devastated and alone.

I walked to him, sat on the chair right across his and took the brush out of his hand.

He raised his face to look at me. I finally saw a deep pain.

"Kakashi san, tell me what happened."

His eye stayed cold, but I could feel the emotions lurking right behind the façade.

"I-I can't," he said stuttering.

Kakashi, the mighty copy-nin was stuttering... I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry," I replied simply. I was about to get up when I heard his voice again. It was barely more than a whisper, but I felt utterly crushed by the despair in his tone.

"Please, stay with me, Iruka sensei..."

He took back the brush and dipped it in the ink again.

I looked at the tool effortlessly tracing neat characters on the off-white paper. There was a stunning beauty in the flow of his strokes entirely legible despite the fact that the brush barely left the paper. Was this truly his natural handwriting? I was pissed and in awe at the same time. If I had known the eccentric jounin could write so well, I would have probably made him rewrite his mission reports until his hands bled to death!

The mission room closed. We stayed together for another half hour as I watched him write in silence.

After he finished, he blew on the ink to dry it, rolled back the scroll and handed it to me. My hand brushed over his grabbing any opportunity to give the broken man a little human warmth. I couldn't believe I felt so much compassion toward the jerk who used to put all his soul into making my mission room shift into a little hell.

"Read," he said.

This single word...

I unrolled the first inches of the scroll and saw Kakashi's face slump in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

I read the scroll attentively. At the beginning, the writing was cold and analytical, similar to Kakashi's usual mission reports, but after a few paragraphs, the tone had changed for something more personal, as if he were talking to me directly. It was a side of the jounin I had never seen before, one I didn't know he possessed; open, uncomplicated, honest...

As I read his account, I remembered the mission. It was simple enough.

The objective was to deliver a scroll with sensitive information to Suna. The mission had been assigned to Team 7 because the Hokage knew that Naruto would be happy to see Gaara again and that the young Kazekage would probably be glad as well.

That part had gone as planned. The scroll had been delivered safely to Gaara, and both teens had spent the day together chatting and sparring, but it's on the way back that things had started to get out of hand. First, there was this encounter with shinobi from Mist who had been sent to intercept the communication between the villages. Having failed their mission now that the scroll had been safely delivered into Gaara's hands, they decided that killing the Jinshukiri or the famous Copy-nin might soften the punishment for their failure. Sai and Kakashi had been slightly injured, but Sakura had healed enough of their wound to allow them to move forward.

I raised my head to look at Kakashi. He hadn't moved. His head was still in his hands. One could think he was sleeping, but by the rhythm of his breath, I knew he wasn't. He was just deeply lost in his thoughts.

I looked back at the scroll. Kakashi's flawless writing began to falter. The lines started to become discontinuous or shaky. I knew by the look of his writing that the road ahead would be bumpy. I had a deep fear. Surely, if the end of his tale weren't irreversibly bad, he would just have told it to me orally. It wasn't like him to lose all hope before he had exhausted all his resources. I didn't know if I wanted to read it, but despite our constant fights and disagreements, the perpetual tongue in cheek insults, Kakashi wanted to tell me... in the only way he could.

A few hours from Konoha, Team 7 encountered a Leaf patrol. The two men were people Kakashi had already seen in the village but didn't know all that well. Tsuchi was a tall chūnin who spent most of his free time drinking with friends. With his wide shoulders and strong arms, he was hard to miss. Yaiba was on the thinner side, but with deep indigo hair, he was easy to recognise as well.

They walked back to Konoha together, but after some time Kakashi became suspicious. Not only did they not act like Leaf patrollers but, whenever possible, they tended to avoid the busiest routes. It was only when they crossed the bridge over the Heisei river that Kakashi understood it was a trap. He saw the explosive tags hidden in between the wooden planks that supported the structure too late and as soon as the fake patrollers saw the jolt in his expression, everything detonated.

Sai had realised what was happening at the same time he did and retreated quickly to the river bank. Kakashi had been able to push Sakura off the bridge since she was close by but Naruto was too far away, and the only thing he could do was shout his name hoping the boy would react quickly enough.

He didn't.

Kakashi threw himself in the falling rubble, but the shinobi were there waiting for him. They knew they wouldn't be able to stop him, but they could delay him, and that's what they did. Not caring about the danger he might face, Kakashi jumped toward them, chidori chirping in his hand. The two shinobi did land severe blows on him, but he was unstoppable. There was no hesitation, no pity, just death. In a second, the men laid dead on the ground. There was a puff of smoke and their bodies transformed showing their Mist hitai-ate.

It had been a henge.

He scanned the surroundings, the two shinobi had been alone. They were safe for now.

He turned to Sai who had managed to drag Sakura back to the river bank. She would be fine, but in the explosion, Naruto had lost a leg... and bled to death.

My hands clenched into fists, and my eyes closed in pain. The scroll rolled over itself and fell to the ground.

Naruto was dead. My brain couldn't process that. The boy was so resilient and positive... and he had been with Kakashi. There was probably no one who put as much energy into protecting the ones he loved and no one who had more power to do so. Despite my frustration with the man, if my life were in danger, there was probably no one else I would trust more to protect it.

If he couldn't save Naruto, no one else could.

The pain started to radiate in my body as the reality finally sank in. Naruto was gone. The blood on Kakashi's vest was his; the blood in Kakashi's hair was his...

I felt a deep emptiness.

"Naruto..."

I didn't mean to, but his name fell from my lips in a low whisper.

Kakashi's hand reached out to mine. His voice was low and ragged.

"Iruka sensei, in his last moments, Naruto thought about you... I am hesitating to propose this to you, but when it happened, my sharingan was uncovered..."

The pain was so obvious in this single, lonely eye.

"No..." I said, confused. "I mean, yes... I'd like to see, but... only if it's ok with you..."

I didn't want to make him relive it for me, but he probably would anyway. He raised his hitai-ate, and I looked straight into the blood-red eye. I barely had the time to see the tomoe spin before I was drawn into his mind.

The movement, the jerkiness, it was like watching a film. Dust rose all around as he landed on the river bank. He was running so fast, I was getting sick. Then, I saw Naruto, lying on the ground, half of his body covered in blood. I followed Kakashi's gaze as he scanned the body for injuries, then looked at an unconscious Sakura. He knew there was nothing he could do except hope that Kyuubi could heal his body quickly enough.

Naruto slowly opened his eyes.

I saw pale arms wrap around the teen so delicately, gloved hands steadying his head and pressing the bloodied body against his own.

"I... I won't make it, huh?" Naruto said pragmatically as if he had already accepted his fate.

"I'll bring you to Tsunade, she'll fix you..." The voice was warm and caring, so unlike anything I was used to hearing from Kakashi. There was so much love in his every gesture...

"Please Kakashi sensei, tell Iruka sensei that..." I could feel Kakashi's eye narrow at these words, but only for an instant.

"Naruto, I am not telling him anything, you will do it yourself."

"No, please, I will try to tell it to him, but if I can't... I feel so weak..."

The boy's soft hands clung to the jounin's vest, he was pleading with everything he had left. Kakashi's arms tightened around him.

"I want him to know... he has been like a big brother to me... he made me so happy and helped me believe in myself, without him..." He closed his eyes, wincing in pain. By the way, his body shook so violently, it was obvious it was over for him. "I am sorry... Just... just tell him not to be too sad, will you?"

"I will, Naruto. I promise I will."

I could see Kakashi's gloved hand caressing Naruto's forehead in an attempt to soothe his pain. There was nothing else he could do.

Naruto took a deep breath; his cerulean eyes widened suddenly then closed, never to reopen again.

Everything went blurry. I could tell those were Kakashi's tears. I knew he loved Naruto at least as much as I did.

I felt dizzy as the world swirled around me, then recognised the plain furniture of the mission room. Kakashi's eyes were filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He was sorry, but for what?

Kakashi... he had risked his life for Naruto, in vain, but he had given everything he could to try to save him. It wasn't his fault, but I could tell how guilty he felt about it.

The messy head of silver locks tilted forward hiding the few square inches of his face that had still been visible. Seeing him so fragile, so broken, I couldn't resist the impulse. I couldn't bear seeing him like that.

I got up from my chair and walked around the table.

His whole expression darkened. My heart sank. He thought I was blaming him. He thought I was mad at him for letting the unacceptable happen...

When my hand reached his shoulder, he twitched, but I wouldn't let him go. Instead, I sat beside him, pulled his head against my chest and hugged him.

I often did that with my students who had lost a close relative, but with Kakashi, it felt different. He wasn't one of my students. What we shared went deeper. Despite all he did to annoy me on a daily basis, I deeply respected him. I admired his unrestrained passion and dedication in what he believed, and I saw how much of himself he invested in his genins. For him as for me, our students were all that we had, they were what kept us going. Without them, we would be completely lost.

As I felt him return my embrace so strongly, I realized that our lives would never be the same again, not just because we would never see again the energetic blonde that had changed both of our minds for the better, but also because his death was forcing us to grieve together, throwing a bridge over our ever diverging opinions.

For the first time since my parent's death, I allowed myself to cry, but this time, I wasn't alone. I had someone who shared the same sorrow, and as our bodies pressed closer against one another in an attempt to alleviate the unsurmountable ache, our pains blended into one.

 _The end..._  
 _At least for now!_


End file.
